four dozen polyester roses with plastic thorns left in a brittle office paper box on a loading bay, the one the morgue uses for the missing feet, with a card, ‘happy valentines day, 2008’.

they were a gift from someone who found them when he was smoking, although the doctor told him to stop or he would die. one year ago he had liver failure, skin the color of fluorescent paint. i said it was a miracle, he said the doctor simply made a mistake, and he has a scar that covers half his midsection.